


Little by Little

by hazelNuts



Series: Prompt Fics [26]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Clumsy Stiles Stilinski, Deputy Derek, Domestic, Fluff, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Stiles, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, POV Stiles, Pining Stiles Stilinski, background melissa/sheriff, if you haven't, mentioned Scott/Kira, pretty sure most of you have seen it though, silently pining Derek, spoilers for An American Werewolf in London, you totally should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked, "i had an operation yesterday, resulting in having to keep my arm in a splint and sling for at least 3 weeks. can i maybe have a fic where stiles only has use of one arm and derek has to help him do stuff? pretty please with rainbow sprinkles on top?"</p>
<p>Stiles injures himself and moves in with Derek for a week. A two armed Stiles just manages to survive on his own, but a one armed Stiles needs a little help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little by Little

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at tagging. If you think I forgot any, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> Originally posted on [letswritesterek](http://letswritesterek.tumblr.com/).

Stiles has had a lot of injuries over the years. It’s unavoidable when you’re ‘The Boy Who Runs with Wolves’. He’s never lost use of one of his limbs, though. He’s never broken something, at least not since eighth grade, so it doesn’t count. There have been some mild sprains, but those were easily ignored after swallowing down some painkillers.

Until yesterday, when he’d been helping Scott assemble some of his and Kira’s furniture. Stiles had lost his grip on one of the shelves and dropped it on his arm, dislocating his elbow. And, of course, he’d managed do in it such a way that he’d needed surgery to set it.

Only a local anaesthetic had been necessary, so Melissa had sent him home a couple hours later with painkillers and strict instructions to not use that arm. Not that he could. It had been bandaged tightly and put in a sling. Plus, the anaesthetic had left him feeling a little dizzy, making him clumsier than usual.

To make matters worse, his dad and Melissa would be going away for a week the next day. They’d offered to stay home, but Stiles can’t have them give up that precious week of freedom they both deserved and too rarely got. He’s managed to guilt Derek into helping him out instead. Scott’s the one who deserves a whining and injured Stiles, but Stiles didn’t think he could stand that remorseful looking puppy-face for a week.

So now, Stiles has temporarily moved into Derek’s spare bedroom.

~

It’s the first night and they’re sitting on the couch, watching some movie. Stiles hasn’t paid attention for a while, too tired to focus on whatever is happening on the screen.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he announces.

‘Goodnight,’ Derek nods.

Stiles stumbles to the bedroom, drops down on the bed and starts removing his clothes. The jeans come off easily, the button’s a bit tricky, but he manages. His t-shirt is an entirely different story. Last night and that morning, Melissa had helped him, but Stiles is determined to do this without Derek’s help. The article of clothing disagrees however, and tangles itself around Stiles’ neck, head and arms.

‘Fuck,’ Stiles mutters. He has no other option, because his arms are stuck and his elbow is starting to hurt from the pressure. ‘Derek!’

It only takes half a second before Stiles hears Derek opening the door.

‘What is it?’ Derek asks. He sounds concerned. Stiles hadn’t known Derek could do that when it concerned him. It’s really sweet. But all nice thoughts of Derek vanish when he hears the man snort and say, ‘I should have known.’

‘Shut up and help me, you dick. It fucking hurts.’

It doesn’t take that long before Stiles is free from his shirt, but Derek doesn’t leave. Instead he’s looking expectantly at Stiles.

‘What?’

‘Where’s the shirt you sleep in?’

‘You’re not helping me get dressed. I refuse to be treated like a helpless infant,’ Stiles pouts.

‘If you mess up that elbow because of it, I’m not driving you to the hospital. You can walk,’ Derek says, his eyebrows raised.

‘Fine,’ Stiles grouses, pulls the shirt out of his bag and makes an attempt at throwing it in the man’s face.

~

Stile wakes up to the smell of eggs and bacon and coffee. He gets up and follows that smell to the kitchen. Derek is already dressed and ready to go to work. The realization that Derek is a responsible, fully functional adult now, still takes Stiles by surprise sometimes. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s _Derek_ who’s sitting at the kitchen counter in a deputy’s uniform. And it’s also _Derek_ who made the eggs and bacon and coffee.

Stiles sits down across from the man and starts sipping the coffee gratefully. It’s perfect, exactly the right amount of sugar and milk, which means _a lot_ and _only a drop_. He then starts to attack his breakfast. Or he tries to. The fork keeps slipping from his hand and the strips of bacon are making his hands even more slippery. He looks up at Derek pleadingly.

‘Give me that,’ the man sighs. Derek cuts Stiles’ breakfast into tiny bite sized pieces.

‘Thank you,’ Stiles says when he gets his plate back and goes back to shovelling down the food.

‘I have to go to the station. Call me if there’s an emergency.’ Derek grabs his jacket and walks to the door. He turns back to Stiles one more time. ‘I’m serious, emergencies only. A jar that needs to be opened is not an emergency. I’ll come back around lunch.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Stiles waves him away. ‘Go protect our fine county, Deputy Hale.’

When the door closes behind the other man Stiles gets up and looks around the apartment. What to do?

~

Turns out, there’s not that much you can do with only one arm. He can’t play video games and he can’t cook. He tried working on his thesis, but he was typing so slowly he wanted to bang his head against his laptop and try to get his thoughts into it that way. He can’t even take a shower, because there’s no way he’s going to try to get his shirt off on his own again after last night’s disaster. Stiles decides it’s time to snoop.

The living room isn’t that interesting. He already knows about the sad lack of good DVDs and the fact that Derek doesn’t have cable. The bathroom and kitchen are just as unexciting. Nothing more than the usual. Well, there’s enough food to last a Westerosi winter, but that’s not weird for a werewolf. He steers clear of Derek’s bedroom. Even he knows that’s a no-go-zone. He really hopes the study is going to reveal something a little more thrilling, because he’s very close to attempting to open a bag of crisps one-handed. He’s pretty sure he could do it.

The study seems unassuming at first glance. There is a desk with a pile of papers and the usual stationary items against one wall. Several bookcases and a filing cabinet are against the opposite wall. Then there is a bin, half-full with bits of paper and empty pens. There are a couple of picture frames as well, but Stiles can’t see what’s in them from his position by the door.

Stiles steps into the room and decides to inspect those picture frames first. He’s not sure what he expected. Well, he expected the frames to still have the photos that came with it, actually. Instead, he finds several pictures of the Hale-family. They’re smiling in all of them, even Peter doesn’t exude his usual creepiness. When he sees the picture of Talia and Derek hugging, Stiles feels a lump forming in his  throat. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose an entire family, but he knows what it is to lose a mom, and that’s bad enough.

Feeling like he’s intruding on something, he’s about to back out of the room when the picture right next that of Derek and his mom catches his eye. It’s a picture of the pack. _Their_ pack. It’s from a couple years ago, the summer before Stiles’ junior year of college. They’d decided to finally go on that pack trip they’d been talking about for years, and they’d gone camping. It had been amazing. The picture must have been taken the last night, when they’d made a campfire and had decided to make s’mores. Derek must have been the one to take the picture, because he’s the only one not in it. It’s not that great a picture, the only one who’s in focus is Stiles. It does remind Stiles of the songs, the ‘horror’ stories that were not nearly as scary as their own lives, the burned marshmallows, and the way he’d fallen asleep on Derek’s shoulder.

The feeling of being an intruder is forgotten and Stiles moves on to the first bookcase. It’s mostly filled with books concerning law enforcement, the same ones his dad owns, and he quickly moves on to the next. This one is more interesting. It’s mostly filled with paperbacks, all of them looking well read. There are some in foreign languages, French, Russian, even one in Polish. Most of the books are classics, or ‘real books’, as Derek likes to say, but Stiles finds the copies of _Harry Potter_ and _The Hunger Games_ that he’d given to Derek as well, looking just as well read as the others.

The next case doesn’t have a lot of books in it. It’s filled with all the gifts the pack and Stiles have given to Derek over the years. Some of them serious, some just to poke a little fun. There’s a pile of DVDs as well. Stiles picks one up, intrigued. He thought all the DVDs were in the living room. It turns out to be a musical, all of them are a musicals, actually, and not the Hollywood versions either. No, these are the DVDs of the Broadway productions. Why would Derek have these?

He opens the case for _Mama Mia_ , but when Laura’s name catches his eye, he closes it immediately.

That uncomfortable feeling of being in the wrong place bubbles up again. This time, Stiles does leave. He closes the door behind him, not wanting to disturb the memories.

~

When Derek comes back for lunch, Stiles is about to spring apart from the nerves. Derek is going to know that Stiles went into the study and saw all that stuff and he’s going to rip Stiles’ throat out and leave his body to rot in the preserve.

‘You want the cheeseburger?’ Derek asks once they’re sitting at the table.

‘Sure.’ His last meal is going to be curly fries and burger. That’s a small comfort.

‘Ketchup?’

‘Yep.’

Stiles listens as Derek talks about his morning. ‘- and then the little green man painted the car gold and put a Chihuahua on the hood as a figurehead.’

‘What?’ That couldn’t be right.

‘What’s wrong?’ Derek sighs.

‘Nothing,’ Stiles says and shoves a hand of curly fries in his mouth, so he won’t start babbling. He knows he’s not fooling anyone and definitely not the werewolf sitting across from him. His heart is speeding up and he probably stinks of anxiety and shame.

Derek only lifts his eyebrows to say as much.

‘I went into your study,’ Stiles blurts out. ‘Sorry.’

‘Okay,’ Derek says slowly, his expression confused.

‘I saw the pictures and the DVDs and I know those things are private and I’m sorry for intruding. I was bored and I didn’t realize until it was too late and I’m so sorry. I mean, I would be upset if someone sniffed around the my mom’s stuff and please don’t be mad at me. I’m really sorry. I-

Derek places a hand on top of Stiles’. ‘Breathe, Stiles. I’m not mad.’

‘You’re not?’

‘No.’

Stiles sags from relief. Derek squeezes his hand and goes back to eating.

‘Hey, Derek,’ Stiles says after a while. ‘I’m sorry. About your family. I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but I am.’

‘I know.’

‘You do? How?’

‘Because you always bombard me with text messages on the anniversaries,’ Derek says with a little smile.

‘Oh, yeah. Do they help?

‘You do.’

~

Over the next few days they develop a routine. Derek makes breakfast, wakes Stiles and then helps him into a clean shirt. Derek leaves for work and Stiles cleans up as much he can with his one hand, after he’s done eating. He then reads until Derek comes home for lunch. Sometimes Stiles talks during while they eat, and sometimes it’s Derek. Derek leaves for work again and Stiles works on his thesis until he gets frustrated by his snail-paced typing. When Derek comes home for dinner, he brings the groceries as well. Derek cooks and Stiles sets the table. Derek chops, and opens jars and bottles, while Stiles stirs anything that needs stirring. Before bed, Stiles takes a shower and Derek helps him with his shirts again. That’s also the time when Derek inspects the stiches and changes the bandages.

Stiles learns a lot of new things about Derek. Derek hates onions. He prefers his drink on the left side of his plate, even though he’s right-handed. Weirdo. Derek wears only boxers to bed. He reads the paper over breakfast like an eighty year-old. He will threaten with bodily harm if you leave your shoes lying around, but is okay with jackets being strewn all over the place. He prefers romantic movies over action, and always checks to make sure that Stiles doesn’t see him smile when the leads get together. He looks adorable in the morning with his hair sticking out everywhere. He has very soft hands, because werewolves can’t get calluses. He leaves his towels on the floor of the bathroom and technically needs to shave twice a day, because by the time he comes home, his beard looks long enough for Stiles to bury his hands in.

It’s not perfect, they argue and Stiles has thrown more than one pillow at Derek’s grumpy face, but it does work. And Stiles kind of wishes that the week wouldn’t end. He doesn’t feel like going back to his apartment. It’s boring. There’s no Derek there.

That’s something Stiles realizes the second day. He has a thing for Derek. A pretty big thing that’s been there for a long time, but Stiles has happily ignored. The thing has clawed its way to the surface of Stiles’ mind, however, and it won’t go back down. No matter how hard he tries.

It’s made some things a little awkward. Whenever Derek helps him with his shirt, Stiles has to use every trick he knows to not get hard. The same goes for when Derek walks around the apartment half-naked. Which he does a lot. Stiles catches himself making eyes at Derek over breakfast on the third day. He moves his eyes back to his breakfast just in time, before Derek notices. He hopes.

By day five he’s so frustrated, both sexually and emotionally, he’s not sure he wants to throw himself on top of Derek or out of a window. He ends up on top of Derek.

They’re watching a movie. It was Stiles’ turn to pick, so now they’re watching David Naughton getting driven into an ally by the London police. He’s trying to make Derek watch as many werewolf movies as he can. They watched _Ginger Snaps_ two days ago.

Derek is lying on his side, his head in Stiles’ lap. Stiles’ injured arm is resting on Derek’s side and with his other hand he’s combing through Derek’s hair. That’s another thing Stiles has learned about Derek, the man is very cuddly. It’s all very nice and relaxed, domestic. Stiles has never been so happy. Or so miserable.

‘I don’t get it,’ Derek says when the credits roll.

‘What?’

‘The ending. He just jumped her.’

‘Yeah, because he loved her.’

Derek sits up and frowns. ‘Then why would he try to kill her?’

‘He didn’t,’ Stiles explains. ‘In the end, he recognized her and recognized what he’d become. He didn’t want to hurt her, ever. He pretended to jump her so they would shoot him.’

Derek scrunches his brows in thought. It’s really adorable and Stiles only just manages to hold back smoothing out those wrinkles with his fingers.

‘I get it,’ Derek nods. ‘I’d do the same.’

‘You would?’

‘If I went feral and had one brief moment of clarity, I would definitely make sure someone killed me before I could hurt the one I love.’

‘Oh.’ It’s the dumbest and most romantic thing Stiles has ever heard. He thinks of what it would be like, a world without Derek, and it feels like someone’s stabbed him in the chest. He shakes his head. ‘I wouldn’t let you.’

‘Stiles,’ Derek says, rolling his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t be able to stop me.’

Stiles is still shaking his head when he moves into Derek’s lap and locks their lips together. He doesn’t want to think about it. He likes the way things are now. Derek is warm and here. And they’re kissing.

Oh crap, he’s kissing Derek.

He backs off quickly, nearly tumbling to the ground, but Derek saves him just in time. A head injury would’ve been less embarrassing.

‘Oh god, I’m so sorry,’ Stiles says, backing away from the couch and the frowning man still sitting there. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. I’m going to my room and just stay there until my dad and Melissa come back.’

He turns and runs the last few feet, slamming the door behind him.

Stiles wants nothing more than to faceplant into the pillows, but he can’t lie on his stupid arm. So he settles for gently lowering himself onto his back and shoving a pillow over his face.

All sounds are muffled, but he doesn’t miss the knock on the door. Or the opening of the door. Next, he feels the mattress dip, and gentle hands remove the pillow from his face.

‘Stiles, it’s okay,’ Derek says, tilting his head with a small smile on his lips.

‘No, it’s not. You’ve been awesome, putting up with my whining and babbling, and invading your space, and leaving my stuff everywhere. And you haven’t even complained. I mean there’s been some eyebrow-complaining, but they’re big enough that they could have a mind of their own, so I’m not counting that. And I just kissed you and made things awkward,’ Stiles pouts. He wants to hide his face again, but Derek is holding his good arm.

Derek’s smile widens. ‘You didn’t make things awkward by kissing me. You made it a little awkward by running away, though. I liked the kiss. I wanted you to kiss me.’

‘You did?’

‘I thought you knew,’ Derek says, shrugging his shoulders.

‘How-‘ Stiles begins, but then flashes of the past week, the past few _years_ , pop into his head. Derek is always there to help him out. Derek hasn’t dated anyone since Stiles’ junior year in college. Derek allows Stiles to invade his space, not just this week, but always. Derek knows how Stiles likes his coffee. Derek knows what shampoo and shower gel Stiles uses, because he had them ready when Stiles arrived five days ago. Derek has a picture of him, Stiles realizes. ‘The picture of the pack is a picture of me,’ he whispers. He should’ve known. Derek isn’t a bad photographer. If he’d wanted a nice group picture, he could’ve taken one. Instead, he’d focused on Stiles. ‘You like me. Like, _like_ like me.

Derek’s only response is a small nod.

‘Oh my god, why are you still over there? Get down here.’ Stiles makes grabby hands, or rather hand, towards Derek.

The smile that had been steadily growing wider is now a beaming grin. It’s amazing. Stiles has never seen Derek smile like that. He can feel something in his chest loosen, making it hard to breath.

The act of breathing is made even more difficult when Derek starts kissing him. The man is hovering over him, hands next to Stiles’ head. He’s too careful, too far away. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist and pulls him closer. The hand of his uninjured arm finds its way into Derek’s hair and tugs on it, urging Derek on.

It works, because Derek deepens the kiss. Stiles can feel his insides melt a little. His lips are tingling from Derek’s scruff and he’s getting hard from the way Derek is rolling his hips against Stiles’. It’s good. It’s _really_ good, but not enough.

‘Shirt off,’ Stiles gasps when he breaks away for air. ‘Everything off.’

‘Stiles, we are not having sex tonight.’

‘Why not? I want to. You want to. Wait, you do want to, right?’

‘Yes, I do, but you’re still healing. I don’t want you to mess up your arm because you couldn’t wait a little while.’

Okay, Stiles gets that. ‘Fine, but that means you can’t walk around shirtless. We can’t make out either, because I’m already about to explode from frustration. I can’t even rub one out in the shower, because I can’t do it with my left hand.’

Derek sits up looking thoughtful. He then moves off the bed and quickly sheds his shirt and jeans. He removes Stiles’ jeans as well.

‘Did you change your mind?’ Stiles asks hopeful.

‘No,’ Derek says, placing a kiss on Stiles’ nose. ‘We’re not having sex.’ Stiles is about to start pouting and demand an explanation for the undressing, but before he can, Derek continues, ‘That doesn’t mean we can’t do other stuff.’

And then all that’s left in the universe is Derek’s warm mouth on him. It’s better than anything Stiles has imagined. He might have been blind to his feelings for Derek, but he was never blind to the fact that Derek was hot, like burning. It doesn’t take long before Stiles is seeing stars and arching of the bed. His arms and legs feel like spaghetti, and all that’s left of his brain is mush. He barely registers it when Derek comes.

They’re lying on top of the sheets, naked and tangled together, coming down from their orgasm-high.

‘Hey, Der’k,’ Stiles mumbles into the man’s shoulder.

‘Hmm?’

‘I like you too.’

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).
> 
> The movie they're watching is _An American Werewolf in London_.


End file.
